Drinking with Maurizio

“So what’s the problem?” I asked. We were at the bar at the top of the Marriott hotel in San Francisco - appropriately called "The View". It’s close to Maurizio’s apartment, and I don’t think he’ll be in any shape to drive tonight. It’s not where I would have picked to drown some sorrows; this is more of a businessman’s expense report place. But it is Maurizio’s treat so I am game.

Maurizio was staring out the window. There was a slow and steady mist falling on the huge glass panes that made up the windows of the atrium like bar. This place is very Gotham city. Lots of art deco, dimly lit and furnished with dark wood and leather. It is easy to imagine Bruce Wayne brooding in here – especially tonight with the gray swirling fog outside.

Maurizio took a deep swallow of his scotch and signed. “I’m going to lose him.”

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em, that’s what you always said. What’s different this time?”

“I think I’m in love. I mean really in love”

“That is obvious.”

“Love sucks. Did you ever need to hear it?” he asked, turning to face me. “I mean, really need to hear it?”

“No, honestly.” I paused. “There was a girl in college that needed to hear it from me, and I couldn’t lead her on. It ended badly.” I thought back to my days in the dorms and Ira (perhaps more on that later – she was wonderful and it is quite a story.) “You’ve not asked him to say ‘I love you’, have you?”

“No, no” he cleared his throat. “No. Pussy, football!” (our inside joke) he glared at the couple at the next table who were clearly engrossed in his story, “are you getting everything OK?” They turned away, embarrassed. The bar is quiet, like a library – just some gentle background chatter and soft music. It is a good place for a conversation. Perhaps this was a good place to drown your sorrows.

“Is this just because you can’t have him? Is he playing hard to get?”

“No” he said again, with less enthusiasm.

“You’ve slept with him, right?” I had just realized that he had not given me details. Maurizio is the kind of guy that shares a bit too much (TMI!!)– with me anyway.

“Yeah, but, you know, it’s not the sex. I mean, the sex is great and all, but he’s so casual about it.”

“Um, and you aren’t? You’re the king of casual sex. I thought the whole gay thing was about casual sex.”

“No, the gay thing is about what turns me on.” He said, getting cross. He ordered another round of double scotches for both of us.

“Sorry, but you’ve always been so casual in your relationships. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but you seem to have some guys for just a few weeks. Sex is grand and you move on the next one.” I finished the last of my scotch, the next one was on the way. “Seriously, I really admired, or maybe envied, that about you. You can get a new guy in a weekend if you want. I go for months, years, waiting for the girl to show up.”

“Rich, you don’t have to wait. You’re just a big chicken. And you’re looking for the epic romance where you kiss and roll in the waves like in that movie. If you want a roll in the hay you can have it, just ask.” He looked at me and paused. “I mean, take our waitress." he went on "I give you a 50/50 chance, if you would just ask her.”

“I kissed Lynn” I said out of the blue.

Maurizio’s eyes widened. “You horn dog, you. Alright. It’s about time!” He gave me a big smile, perhaps his first for the night, and patted me on the back. (Hmmm, not reading my blog, huh?) “I assume that you mean a serious slobbery wet swapping spit kind of kiss, right?” he asked. Maurizio was back, at least for the moment.

“Yeah, uh, spit swapping.” He made this really sweet thing between Lynn and me seem so gross.

He slapped me on the back again. “Way to go. Isn’t Jim going to be pissed about this?”

“Why do you think she is with him?”

“I’m guessing that he turns her on.”

“But he’s kind of a jerk.”

“Yeah, well, he is kind of a jerk. But, being a turn on and being a jerk aren’t mutually exclusive. In fact, being a huge turn-on can turn some people into jerks. And while you see jerk, she may see dominance and assertiveness – I hear women can find that attractive. A lot of people find jerkiness a turn-off, but maybe his sex appeal is good enough to overcome that. You know her better than I do, but Lynn doesn’t seem to me to be the type that would find jerkiness all that bad.”

“But Jim is old, bald, and fat. And he likes country music and wears cowboy boots. Where’s the turn-on?” I asked this with perhaps a bit too much desperation.

“Rich,” Maurizio looked exasperated. “There is no accounting for taste. Look at you, you find tits and pussies to be attractive. I can’t understand that for the life of me. Some guys like steak, some guys like chicken. She found something in him that excites her. She had to, otherwise she wouldn’t put up with him.”

“I guess” I said dejectedly.

“It’s the sex, the chemistry, the fireworks – call it what you like – but when you find it it’s wonderful. It’s the sizzle that makes life worth living. Who knows, maybe he has a 12 inch cock, or can lick his eyebrows. If he makes her happy it’s a good thing – that is, unless you want to make her happy.” He sighed. “This probably won’t end well. When did this slobbery kiss happen?”

“It was Christmas Eve. And nothings happened since.”

“Have you tried anything since?”

“Well, no. Not really.”

“What do you expect her to do, climb under your desk and blow you? Give her a reason to do something. Grab life by the balls. I can’t believe you are such a wuss.”

“I thought we were here to cheer you up, not bring me down.”

“Wait here.” He walked over to our waitress who was standing by the bar and talked closely to her for a while. She was smiling - she’ll be disappointed I thought. He returned with our scotches and a smile. He lifted his glass and said “To friendship” and clicked my glass. “Rich,” he said “I can never stay down when you are around. I love you.” He downed a hearty swallow. He had never said that to me before. Hmmm.

I truly had gotten him out of his funk. We chatted amiably through two more double scotches. He led me up to the bar on the pretense of a taste of a 30 year old armagnac that the bartender had for “friends of the bar” only. We stood there for a while and chatted with the barkeep. The armagnac was really good. The bar tab for tonight was going to cost us a fortune.

I felt slight pressure and an up and down motion on the left side of my rear end. Someone was playing grab-ass, and they were using my ass. Maurizio was on my right. I looked at him. He was holding a brandy snifter in his left hand – it wasn’t Maurizio. I shouldn’t have suspected him. I turned to my left – and saw our waitress smiling at me. She gave me a brief squeeze and turned away.

Maurizio and the bartender laughed.

“All you need to do is ask.” Maurizio chided me. He may be right.

Maurizio settled up – I protested and offered to pay my share. Maurizio refused.

We stumbled down to the street and hailed a cab – even though Maurizio’s apartment was only about 6 blocks away. I had left my truck at his apartment. Before we got in he asked me if I was OK to drive. I said “Of course not.” I had lost count, but I think I had 6 (or was it 8?) scotches and the brandy.

“Rich, I can’t have you in my house tonight.”

“Why?”

“Rich, I can’t, not tonight. Just… I can’t.” He ran back inside the Marriott. I followed. He was at the front desk, and handed the desk clerk a credit card.

“What?” I asked.

The lady handed him some papers and said “Room 2108”.

Maurizio handed me the key, and said “Stay here tonight.” He sniffed and looked down at the floor. He hugged me and said “Get yourself a room service breakfast.” And then he smiled at me. “And enjoy it with that waitress, if your dick still works. Here's her number" he handed me a card with her number written on it (damn Maurizio, how does he do that?). He turned and walked out briskly.

I went up stairs and sat on the bed in the dark and stared at the rain falling on the window. I thought about Sarah, and Lynn, and Jim, and Maurizio. And then I remembered – I have a 5:00 a.m. video conference. Normally on Tuesday night I would not have gone drinking, but Maurizio needed me.

I couldn’t afford to miss this meeting – we skipped it last week because of the holidays. I didn’t want to give Dave any more ammunition. But, crap, it was 1 a.m. I’d still be drunk before I needed to drive down to Sunnyvale. I decided to phone it in, and set the alarm for 4:55.